Thursday, September 12, 2013

Twin towers

The morning that I wake up after a birthday is forever going to be the morning of September eleven.

I wanted mother to call but she didn't. Stephanie and I took to the streets after sunset, only now is the Hendrick's Gin and the opium starting to wear off (I took some from Chloe while she's away). It's never something to remember so it doesn't matter that I don't, more than the sporadic flashes from a vibrating dance floor and the lights. I think someone gave me roses.

The only one that remembered was Carl, of course. His voice on the other end of the wasteland sounded like an autumn wind, calm and soothing with a certain edge to it. "Happy birthday my flower" he said, as he always does, and for a moment I felt like ten again. Him, a pre-teen version of a lover, casually looking at me from a chair in my bedroom and me, afraid of looking back. 


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